


Atlas Hands

by keraunoscopia



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Meet the Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 13:20:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12388881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keraunoscopia/pseuds/keraunoscopia
Summary: Sonny Carisi is Staten Island, born and bred. It would be pretty difficult to deny that to anyone he's opened his mouth around. But Staten Island isn't the only place he calls home, and he wants nothing more than to share it with Rafael.





	Atlas Hands

Sonny doesn’t know why everyone assumes he’s such a suburban boy, just because his drawl gives away that he hails from Staten Island. Sure he grew up playing little league at the park down the street, and road bikes around with the neighborhood kids, terrorizing the grumpy old widows. Yeah, his house had a white picket fence and a backyard with a swing set. He went swimming at his friends’ houses, and skinned knees while playing kickball in the school yard. He knows the suburbs like the back of his hand. 

But really though, he’s a bit of a country boy. He’s struck by the somewhat surprised but impressed expression he gets from Rafael when he mentions something about farming during case prep, which turns out to be relevant. “How’d you know that?” Rafael had asked after bringing it up during the trial, and while he couldn’t be sure what had swayed the jury, it had helped. Sonny just shrugged at the time, but it had sparked his great idea. 

“Where are we going, Dominick?” Rafael scowls as he stands in front of the half packed car, watching Sonny rearrange, bent over into the truck, and maybe his gaze lingers a little too long on the perfect ass in front of him. He’s dressed casually at Sonny’s request, though casual for Rafael Barba is still designer jeans and a polo that Sonny is sure still cost more than some of the furniture in his apartment. 

“You’ve asked me that about sixty times, Rafi, and my answer isn’t gonna change no matter how many times you nag me.” Sonny replies, standing up straight as he slams the car trunk closed. “We’re going on a trip, and you’re gonna let go of that anal retentive nature of yours and go with it. Get in the car.” 

Rafael bristles at the command, but he wont deny that there’s something subtly attractive about being ordered around by the slender man. He climbs into the passenger seat. “Can you at least tell me how long this drive is going to be?”

Sonny just grins this feral grin and gets behind the wheel. They’ve got a good four hours of road ahead of them, not that he’ll admit that to Rafael, who will certainly start complaining about his driving the moment they’ve pulled away from the curb. In truth though, he doesn’t want to tell Rafael until they get there because of the way his stomach is churning in anticipation. He doesn’t want to risk the chance that Rafael won’t like it, doesn’t want to risk him complaining about where they’re going until they get there. This means too much to him. 

Where they’re going is not somewhere he really could have imagined Rafael going, at least not without some encouragement. But where they’re going is also as much a home to Sonny as the suburbs of Staten Island. His grandparents’ farm out in East Otto, two hundred acres of farmland, and woods, a creek and a pond, and the old farm house where he took his first steps, where he broke his arm for the first time, where he came out to his Nonna and Poppy, and they hugged him and told him that God doesn’t make mistakes. 

Its where he spent the majority of his sun kissed summers, a healthy layer of dirt on his skin and clothes, helping his Poppy pick vegetables in the fields, helping his Nonna snap green beans for canning while sitting on the old kitchen table, getting his head slapped as his grandmother scolded him in Italian for eating more than he was putting in the baskets. It was the only place where he and his sisters always got along, playing together in the creek, jumping off the tire swing, even including little Bella without complaint. His cousins too, all twenty or so of them, though the number never stayed the same from year to year. 

“Dominick,” Rafael’s word cuts him out of his trip down memory lane. “You’ve been zoned out for fifteen minutes, don’t crash the car.” His words are curt but Sonny can tell he’s concerned. Rafael only calls him Dominick when he’s trying to be persuasive. Sonny if he’s mad, Sonny if he’s annoyed, Nicky when he’s half way to heaven, but Dominick with love, with concern, with fear. 

“Sorry, Rafi, just thinking, I’m still paying attention,” he drops his hand to Rafael’s knee, squeezing gently. “Thank you for coming with me,” his voice is softer, gentle and he glances at Rafael out of the corner of his eyes. He knows how much Rafael hates the unknown, hates relinquishing control. 

“How much longer?” Rafael asks, unwilling to acknowledge the thank you until he knows where they’re going, because the buildings faded away two hours ago, and he can’t remember the last time he even saw a mailbox, and the further they go the more nervous he gets. Sitting in the passenger seat, Rafael is half convinced that Sonny has lured him out here to serial murder him, the golden retriever-esque detective would certainly be charming enough to have gotten away with it thus far. 

“We’re just about there,” Sonny replies, looking over at him with a smile. That might be what Rafael loves most about Sonny, no matter how gruff, how stoic, how mean, he comes across, Sonny responds with nothing but his illuminating, radiant self. “We’re uh,” he looks over as he turns down a dirt road, “this is my grandparents’ farm,” He turns his attention back at the road, afraid to see Rafael’s reaction. “This is where I spent my summers as a kid, its prolly my favorite place on earth,” he can feel a lump in his throat, because he’s worried that Rafael won’t understand how important this is. “It’s just gonna be the two of us tonight, but everybody else’ll be here tomorrow.” He adds quickly before Rafael can respond. Its not Rafael’s first encounter with his family, but he hasn’t had to deal with nearly forty Italians at the same time before, and 200 acres might seem like a lot of space for 40 people, but Sonny knows from personal experience how much it isn’t. 

The silence seems like it lasts a life time as Sonny lets a car roll to the stop in front of the giant old farmhouse. But Rafael’s hand reaches out and takes his with a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad you want to share this with me.” Its probably one of the nicest things that Rafael has ever said to him, and Sonny knows he’s going to file it away with his memory of the first time Rafael said he loved him. 

“Rafi…” Sonny hates how choked up he’s getting. It’s a house, it shouldn’t mean this much to him, but it does. “I want to share everything with you.” He pulls the door handle and lets it swing open. “Come on, I wanna show you around.” He smiles. 

“Lead the way,” Rafael smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first whack at the fandom. Its pretty rough, but the idea has been floating around in my head distracting me during classes so I figured I should get it down on paper. 
> 
> East Otto isn't really that close to NYC, but it is in New York, and as an Italian, these were basically my summers, and the summers of all of my Italian friends, so I couldn't help but imagine Sonny spending his summers on the farm too. 
> 
> **I haven't seen much written yet with Rafi calling Sonny anything but Sonny or Carisi but my lil nerd brain loves the idea of Rafi calling him Dominick or Nicky. Idk y'all can hate it if you want, but I think its adorable.


End file.
